2001-12-14 - 12:34 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "The First Noel"

Y'know, I think part of the reason I am so cheerful all the time is because I have a horrible memory. Today I was going to write about two times this week when I got horribly cranky, but as I sat down to write I couldn't remember what the second one was, that had occurred earlier in the week.

Plus I don't know how many times Poindexter and I get into one of our mock fights -- five minutes into it, this will happen, interspersed with giggles:

Poindexter: [Holding me captive] Give me a kiss.
Evelynne: [Turning face away] No.
Poindexter: [Looking wounded] Why not?
Evelynne: I'm mad at you.
Poindeter: Why?
Evelynne: [moment of silence] I forget.

(Poindexter likes to hold me close and kiss me when he's being pesky. It's part of the peskiness. Someday I will remember to document an entire episode of his peskiness so you can see what it's all about.)

So, anyway, I did finally remember the two episodes of crankiness.

The first was when we were at Macy's on Monday. We were looking for a sweater for Poindexter and boots for me. It was very hot at Macy's, so I was, uh, "glowing" a bit. This made me uncomfortable. The bad luck with the boots -- all too big in the calf or too expensive -- made me borderline cranky. Then I had to deal with too many people, overstuffed, disorganized tables, and a difficult-to-find size while looking for sweaters for Poindexter, and I got even grumpier. I went into the dressing room with him and sat on the bench and spoke shortly as we discussed the sweaters (all but one was horrible). Poindexter told me I wasn't allowed to get grumpy when we shop together because he hates the whole process and can't have me making it worse.

In this case, I stopped being cranky because I found my perfect boots at Nordstrom, plus Nordstrom was at a much more reasonable temperature than Macy's. (More on the boots later.)

The second time I was cranky was last night. I was talking about wanting to go to South Beach with my husband and my brother next Friday evening. That idea was shot all to hell because Poindexter has promised to pick up his friend Justin & family at the airport at 5:30pm. (They are visiting his in-laws in the next town over at the same time as us.) I had really wanted to go early in the visit, because once we get close to Christmas it'll be too hard to get away. Besides this, there was a snafu involving airport pickups and I didn't like how it was resolved.

So, I brushed my teeth silently and grumped to myself, and then stomped around the bedroom getting ready for bed, and slammed the bedroom door.

Poindexter: Why are you slamming doors?
Evelynne: Because I'm angry.
Poindexter: What are you angry about?
Evelynne: Everything!

He presumed it was the airport snafu, when in fact it was more the South Beach issue. I wanted to see the Beautiful People that supposedly hang down there, and thought I'd have the best chance of seeing them on Friday. Since there was no real way to resolve this issue, there wasn't much to talk about and I think eventually we changed the subject.

As we were drifting off to sleep, I realized I wasn't feeling grumpy anymore, and I said, "Y'know, I think that I can't stay mad because when I'm presented with an immovable obstacle I start rearranging my priorities."

It's true though. It's more important to me not to be upset/angry than it is to get what I wanted, so I shift things around and rationalize things ("Maybe there will be plenty of pretty people on Sunday" or "I can get my brother to come down in February and we'll go then" or "Maybe South Beach is more trouble than it's worth"). When I can't rationalize it away, eventually I forget it. Apparently being completely forgetful has its advantages.

OK, so, my boots.

I saw a photo in a girly magazine of a pair of knee-high boots. "Glamour", probably, which I can't stop buying even though its heavy left-wing bias makes me completely crazy -- I just have to ignore any article that isn't about sex, cothes, or makeup.

Anyway, I saw this boots, and I thought, wow, those are really cool, but I have three pairs of ankle boots and I can't justify buying those.

Then I started noticing girls around town wearing these boots and starting really coveting them. I got a little bit o' birthday money and thought, what the heck, I'll put that towards these boots.

Then I found out this kind of boot tends to cost $200, and guilt kicked in. Usually I buy stuff at Payless for less than $15, and I nearly died when I paid $70 for my brown ankle boots. Meanwhile, Poindexter wanted a new computer. Both of us feel guilty spending money, ever. Even when the money is just sitting there, waiting to be spent.

So Poindexter and I spent a while on IM, each helping the other to rationalize their purchase. See, I don't care if Poindexter buys a computer, and he doesn't care if I buy the boots; it's only our own purchases where we get miserly. Mainly he shrieked "BUY THE DAMN BOOTS!"

One thing we do is rationalize our purchases in ridiculous ways. We got a lot of mileage out of my cubic zirconia engagement ring -- every time we wanted to buy something for the next year or two we said, "we saved all that money not buying a diamond!". Poindexter tends to budget money for what he thinks something will cost, and then when he ends up saving money because he finds a good deal, whatever's left is "free money!" We drink very little alcohol -- Poindexter subsists almost entirely on birthday/Christmas beer that my parents buy him, and I've yet to find alcohol I can stand to drink -- so we rationalize how much we save there. Poindexter had his last cigarette on our wedding day, so at about a pack a week, $3-$4/pack, we've saved well over $500 since we got married. We've never bought Christmas or birthday presents for each other, so we've saved hundreds of dollars there. We have ancient, cheap cars that are long since paid for. I have a short commute and he has none -- all that gas/wear we're saving on! That sort of thing.

ANYWAY. Once I'd mentally prepared to blow $200 on such a completely frivolous purchase, I went to the mall. I was fooled, for a while, into thinking I could find a cheaper pair -- there were lots of $70 pairs at Macy's. Unfortunately, none of them fit properly. I have very skinny calves. I have some good squeezable schmoo on my thighs, but not the calves.

So I was grumpy and cranky. Then I get to Nordstrom and there is ONE PAIR that looks like it will fit me in the calf. ONE. The floor sample is a 7N (I'm a 6N), so I decide to try them on just to test the fit in the calf.

I put them on and my jaw dropped. Besides being a perfect fit in the calf, I felt like I was standing on clouds. They were incredibly comfortable. My grumpiness vanished and I got giddy and giggly because my shoes felt so good.

I wore them out of the store, like I used to do when I was a little kid. The salesman laughed at me.

Then in the car, though, Poindexter said something about me being a size six, and I started feeling guilty again. How can I blow $180 on a pair of boots and not even check to see if the six feels better? So I obsessed about it all day the next day and worried that since I'd worn them out of the store they weren't returnable, blah blah blah, but I had to go back.

Hooray! That 7N was the smallest they had. And the guy in the store says the extra room in the toe will help keep my feet warm. Don't tell me if he's bs'ing me; I don't want to know.

So, I have knee-high boots now. I'll take a photo this weekend. Not only that, but I realized that a bunch of skirts from college that I'd lost interest in are now suddenly much more fun to wear since I have these boots. So I have plenty of things to wear with them, and I will get my money's worth. Yippee!

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